


Potential

by htfrjolenz



Series: The Adventures and Perils of Davy Jones [9]
Category: The Monkees
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-27
Updated: 2016-06-27
Packaged: 2018-07-18 14:54:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7319641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/htfrjolenz/pseuds/htfrjolenz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Series follower to In Dependence<br/>  With Mike and Micky out of town for a few days, Peter is looking to tap into some hidden potential ...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Potential

“ … but Michael – what am I going to do for two whole days while you're gone?”

“Simmer down Cotton, it isn't like I'm gonna be gone for a week or a month. Besides, it isn't like you'll be here alone - Davy will be here to keep you company.”

“I know but what about ...”

A sly, knowing grin spread across the Texan's face. He knew – without a doubt – that Peter was referring to his insatiable sex drive, and how he was to manage it for the next forty-eight hours.

“I'm sure you'll figger sumthin' out shotgun .. tap into that _hidden potential_ …” He said with a wink in Davy's general direction.

Peter's confusion was apparent in the blank expression on his face as Mike slung an arm about his shoulder, whispering in his ear as they strolled into the next room. Davy felt an odd chill as he watched their retreat, his thoughts straying to the bizarre scenarios that had taken place between he and his roommates over the last several months. His reverie was broken abruptly however when Micky landed at his feet, his slide down the banister a perfect ten by Olympic standards.

“You look like you're a million miles away little one – what's up?”

“Nothing special,” Davy said, shaking himself from his myriad of meanderings,

“Just .. thinking.”

Micky followed his unintentional gaze to Mike and Peter on the sofa, nodding his head in nonchalance.

“Right .. listen babe – I wanted to tell you that if you get … needy while I'm gone – Pete .. well he'll .. be here.”

Wordlessly, Davy's eyebrows shot up in a questioning manner, a tinge of pink coloring his plump cheeks.

“You erm .. you mean -”

The impish smile plastered across his lover's features spoke loudly what Micky didn't say: _Precisely_.

“You bout ready Mick?” Mike called, his overnight bag slung over his shoulder.

“Yaa man, if we're gonna beat the mid-morning rush we should get going I guess.”

Turning to Davy, Micky planted a wet kiss on his ever-welcoming lips, his right hand snaking around to punctuate it with a firm squeeze to his backside. A brief taste more of the sweet enclave that was Davy's mouth and he stepped away, leaving the young Englishman in a dither.

His head swimming deliciously, Davy gave witness to Mike and Peter's parting kiss: Michael's fingers tangled in the silken blond strands at the back of the bassist's head, holding him firmly through a deep kiss – a duel of the tongues – complete with all the sensuous creamy noises that immediately riveted Davy's attention to the display. As they parted lips, it did not escape the Brit's attention when Mike's right hand gave a long stroke to the front of Peter's now-bulging jeans. Davy swallowed hard.

“You two .. play _nice_ now,” Mike winked, and he and Micky breezed out the front door.

 

The ensuing silence that hung in the air was thick and heady as they stood listening to the crunch of gravel as the GTO left the driveway. A palpable energy seemed to crackle in the space between them as they quietly contemplated what each of their partners had suggested to them – neither the wiser to what the other was told.

“You hungry?” Peter asked, at the same time that Davy had simply said,

“Breakfast?”

Peter grinned a shy, nervous grin. Davy chuckled warmly, ducking his head bashfully.

“I'll start cooking, go ahead and set the table.”

“Coffee or juice?” Davy asked, happy to have a distraction from his tangle of carnal thoughts.

“I could dig _both_ ,” Peter smiled, “you know me – the more I get the happier I am!”

The innocent statement landed on them both at the same time, further unraveling Davy's calm exterior, as the stack of napkins he held went into the air, fluttering to the floor in a rain of white. Equally affected by his verbal faux-pas, Peter's jittery hand let loose of an egg, which promptly splattered between their feet. Reaching at the same time to retrieve the cracked shell their hands touched briefly, sending delightful shivers up Davy's spine as they looked at each other – there was no missing the mischief playing in the golden depth's of Peter's smiling eyes.

“You get the egg,” the younger mumbled, “I'll clean up the rest.”

“I'm sorry Davy, that only leaves two eggs .. you can have them if you like.”

“We can share Petah – one each,” he said as he re-stacked the napkins, “with toast and all it'll be good.”

“Gee that's sweet of you, but then again you're always sharing everything with me,” he smiled, his brilliant dimple taking up a quarter of his face.

Blushing, Davy set the table, his mind a tangle of wicked scenarios - with breakfast on the floor and he and Peter on the table. In short time breakfast was had and the dishes washed, the two young men now sitting bored to tears at the empty table.

“So … what do you wanna do?” Peter finally broke the silence.

“Could go fer a swim I suppose,” Davy suggested timidly.

“That sounds like a _great_ idea! Meet by the bay doors in five minutes?”

“Okay, I'll be down in a jiff.”

Three minutes later Peter stood at the back of the house, leaning against the door frame and looking out onto the beach – a sunny morning that promised to be another California scorcher with lots of possibility.

“Ready Petah?”

Snapping out of his daydream Peter turned, all thoughts coming to a screeching halt: There stood his youngest roommate, naked as the day he was born but for those yummy, tight red swim trunks he wore all too often. Suddenly wishing he'd opted for a looser pair of trunks himself, Peter nodded, completely incapable of speech. Noticing his flummoxed look and tense demeanor, Davy ducked his head, grinning.

“You okay mate? You look like you saw a ghost .. or _something_.”

“Something,” Peter mumbled as he opened the door, “come on, let's hit that cool water .. I need it.”

Out on the beach the two played in the rising heat after a refreshing dip in the Pacific, romping about as young men do and working up a huge thirst. The sun had crept across the sky and before they realized it it was nearly noon.

“You're just too athletic Davy, you wore me out - I'm so thirsty now I could drink the ocean!”

“C'mon Pete,” The little one giggled, “let's head 'ome and grab a cold drink. With the ten pounds of sand and sea salt we're covered in a showah is in my near future too.”

“Sounds good to me .. then maybe some lunch and well .. who knows,” He smiled.

“Erm, yaa .. who knows.”

Two tall, cool glasses of lemonade did the trick, leaving them both rejuvenated and feeling much cooler. Lounging on the sofa in front of the fan, Peter turned to Davy, nervously toying with the string of his own swim trunks.

“So...” he said, suddenly losing his nerve, his gaze drifting unintentionally down the front of Davy's gold-kist body.

“So .. what?” came the coy reply, mock innocence in the youth's twinkly, playful eyes.

“Did um .. did Micky – mention anything to you – before he left?”

“Oh yes, he said to be sure n lock the doors before we go to bed, and to leave out some milk for Mr. Peebles cat.”

“Oh. Oh, alright.”

“Why do ya ahsk?”

“Just .. curious.”

“Oh. Did Mike have anything to say to you?” He teased, dragging out the tension.

“Um, he said .. um .. just - stuff.”

“Oh. Well I'm gonna strip outta these trunks and hit the showah, lemme know what'cha wanna do fer lunch ahftah.”

“O-okay Davy .. I'll take one when you're done.”

Nodding, Davy pulled the string on his trunks and headed for the bathroom, leaving Peter on the sofa all but choking on his own tongue.

(What's _wrong_ with me – it's just _**DAVY**_! _Why can't I_ **talk** _to him?_ )

Peter chastised himself, raking his fingers through his hair.

(Maybe if I smoke a little - relax myself …)

“Hey Pete,” Davy called from the bathroom.

“Yes, what's up Dave?”

“I forgot to grab a towel babe - would'ja mind?”

“Oh. ( **OH** ) Okay, be right there.”

(Nakedandintheshowerandhe's _NAKED –_ and I'm.Going. _ **In**_.There)

Quickly grabbing a clean towel from the basket Peter stepped into the steamy room through the partly-open door. Putting all his effort into speaking without a tremble in his voice, and taking a deep breath he lay the towel on the closed toilet lid.

“It's here on the commode Davy,” he said in a smooth voice, that was strangely two octaves deeper than normal.

“Could'ja hand it to me? I've got shampoo in my eyes.”

Swallowing hard, the now-stiffening bassist suddenly found it difficult to breathe in the small, damp heat ( _heat_ ) of the room. Retrieving the towel he willed his legs to take the two steps toward the shower curtain and pull it back. Finally finding the pluck to take action, he turned his head and pulled it back, shoving the towel forward from the dry end of the tub.

“Here ya go.”

“Petah I cahn't see a thing – can you please put it in my hand?”

(you can do this – it's just Davy and he's taking a shower – no big deal)

Sighing he opened his eyes and turned to look into the tub: Pressed against the wall with his back to him, Davy stood with his arm extended waiting for the cloth to touch his hand – his gloriously tight, bright-white bottom leading the way like a beacon on the shore – and Peter inadvertently let out an audible moan.

“Pete?” Davy prodded, his eyes stinging wildly.

“Oh right,” He mumbled, jerked out of his sight-seeing reverie, “sorry, here.”

“Are you alright?” Davy asked, turning to face him, the suds all wiped from his eyes, “Didn't get too much sun didja?”

“Um .. no, I'm fine, just .. hungry,” he said quickly, maintaining eye contact.

“Well then, I'll make us something to eat while you showah. Thanks fer the towel babe.”

“Anytime.”

 

Fresh from the shower Davy stepped into the living room wearing a towel and a huge grin, to find Peter sitting on the floor leaning against the front of the love seat, half-baked and enveloped in a telltale, musky cloud of smoke. Glancing up at the nearly-naked Englishman, the blond merely shrugged his apology.

“Sorry Davy-babe, I really needed a little … backbone,” he grimaced.

“So I'm not the only one who's a li'l nervous,” Davy chuckled matter-of-factly, taking a seat beside him.

“ _You_? _**Nervous**_!” he gaped.

“Yaa .. been side-steppin' it all day mate. S'not _you_ ya know, but you n me .. well – we've nevah – _erm_ ..”

“Right. Not alone anyway. So, how do you feel about .. _this_?”

An anxious run of his tongue over his ample lower lip gave an air of shyness to Davy that immediately appealed to Peter in the most primal of manners. Extremely happy that he had changed into loose-fitting sweatpants, he waited patiently for his youngest bandmate to gather his thoughts.

“I'm not opposed to it .. just dunno how to approach it – where to stahrt.”

“Any idea what you wanna do Davy?” Peter breathed silkily, his courage now finding it's way to his vocal chords.

“I haven't even gotten that far,” he grinned, “was still tryin' the whole 'coyly charming bit .. figured you might take the lead. What about you, do you 'ave any ideas?”

“.. Yes,” he smiled, his left hand snaking out unannounced and of it's own volition to slide up Davy's leg, “yes I do.”

Tiny shivers ran north up the firm thigh of the already randy Brit, landing somewhere south of his abdomen, sufficiently sucking the breath from his lungs. Mouth hanging open he eyed the guitar-calloused fingers caressing him, a mixture of utter euphoria and stark terror evident in his honey-brown eyes.

His mouth was as dry as a cotton ball.

“Oh. Erm .. what'd you .. that is how do you – m'not sure w-”

“Relax Davy, it's just me. Thought maybe we could have a little lunch and hang out – maybe take a nap together – sort of break the ice. When we wake up … well, we can go from there.”

“Sounds reasonable. I'll make some lunch.”

“Groovy, I'm gonna take my shower.”

  
  


By the time one-thirty rolled around the two were sound asleep, drugged from their time in the morning sun and tipsy on each others company. Bellies full from a tuna salad lunch and fresh from the shower, they fell easily into a relaxed and sated slumber beside each other in Mike and Peter's double bed.

Snoring softly in his sleep - as he was prone to do when feeling blissful – Davy had the softened and youthful glow of innocence painted on his angelic face, one of sheer beauty and a bewitching allure that perplexed the mind: To look at him was to observe a living oxymoron - he could take your breath away or break your heart (often both) .. it was a blessing and a curse for the little Brit. Awake first beside him, Peter could not take enough of him in, barely breathing for fear of waking him too soon.

( _But GOD he's hot – I could just_ **lick** _him -)_

No sooner had the thought crossed his mind and the lubricious blond stretched out his tongue and swiped a short stripe across the exposed brown nipple nearest him. A tiny, unconscious groan of pleasure escaped Davy's throat, soft and from deep within, much to Peter's delight. Encouraged, he explored the nearly-naked, sleeping youth further.

Stealing across his skin with delicate fingertips he silkily massaged the golden skin of the taut belly, presented to him with an unintentional turn of the covers by his bedmate. The newly-sprouted line of peach-fuzz extending down his abdomen and into his briefs drew Peter in. Soft as the down of a baby chick, he let his breath course across it as his lips grazed the heated flesh.

Gently and slowly, as not to wake his slumbering prey, he inched down the white briefs that veiled the prize beneath, one that unwittingly craved his special searing kiss. As fabric diminished and more skin was visible Peter gasped audibly at the sight of the pink semi-hard member that peeked out to greet him, one eye open, its sleep-heavy brain curious. (yes they have brains – these tiny heads) Fully revealed it took little encouragement: With a ghosting of Peter's hot breath Davy's shaft stood tall and proud at full attention, the diminutive Brit still sleeping like a lamb at the slaughter-house door.

Unable to contain his thirst for Davy any longer Peter made his move. Stealthily gaining his hands and knees he hovered above him, and wetting his lips he swallowed his cock to the hilt in a single fluid motion. Awake and up like a shot, the young Englishman groaned with pleasure, all but choking on his tongue from the impromptu feast taking place between his legs. His skills unmatched, Peter produced a symphony of sensations beyond anything Davy had ever experienced. Alternating between long slow sucking strokes and furious flicks of his tongue around the head, he gave torturous pleasure that had the younger man squirming, his fists gripping the sheets in a euphoric agony that he wouldn't have stopped if he could form the words to ask.

Moaning and thrashing, Davy lay semi-pinned as Peter worked his magic. Cradling his balls he gently massaged them, stroking the raging and needy flesh of his cock as he hungrily sucked the now purple and pulsing head. Slyly slipping a finger into Davy's ass he went for the glorious little button – God's gift to men – to stimulate and send him over the top.

“Petah please – _GOD_ it's _so_ _**HOT**_!”

Losing control Davy pleaded – for what exactly even he wasn't sure – mercy, release or more erotic bliss. Slowing to a steady constant, Peter alternated the rhythm of his sucking with the stroking of the magic little gland inside his captive lover, producing a carnal fire that could not be extinguished. Groaning with an ecstasy beyond his knowledge Davy reached his threshold, Peter's ministrations taking him beyond the scope of his capability to hold back any longer he exploded with a growl, his fluids spilling into the blond's eager mouth.

“ARRGHHH GOD please - **STOP** – please, _PLEASE_ its _**TOO MUCH**_!”

Ignoring his partner's cries for mercy Peter continued on, slowly but fervently milking him of every drop of his strength along with his plentiful juices. Still prodding his insides he sucked tightly on the head of his dick, Davy struggling beneath him to evade the mind blowing waves of orgasm that would not cease.

“Petah please,” he begged, “please let me stop – I'm **BEGGING** you – I'll do _anythin'_ you want if you'll just **stop** makin' me _cum_!”

Appeased that he'd heard what he was hoping for, he released his lips and with prodding strokes of his hand teasing him he queried him seductively.

“ _Anything_ Davy?” he smiled, his signature dimple poking out from his cheek as he licked a trickle of white from the younger man's cock.

“YES, _**ANY**_ _THING_!” he cried, flinching from the resuming sensations.

Kissing the receding tip of his lover's ravaged shaft, his blond locks falling alluringly over his forehead, Peter leaned back and observed the puddle that was his quivering bandmate's body, still spasming from the echoes of the orgasm from hell. Lying beside him Davy struggled to catch his breath, his body bathed in sweat, his chest heaved as he licked his lips, trying to regain his composure.

“Oh. My God ...” he stammered,” that was incredible … you're rathah talented - if not a bit evil mate.”

His grin was enough to tell Peter that he was speaking in jest, yet with a bit of honest sarcasm. It made him proud.

“So .. about what you said.”

“Erm .. yaa, bout _that_.”

“You gonna welch on me Davy?”

No, no – if I'm anything mate I'm true to me word – just a tad nervous 'ere, I don't think I can swallow that monstah you've got!”

“No worries, I don't expect you to – that's _not_ what I want.”

“Oh. Um .. oh.”

The calm that had finally settled over him began to take flight as a new emotion began to spread through him, leaching into the golden skin of his face turning him an ashy shade of gray as he contemplated his fate.

“Okay, so – what _do_ you want?”

The smile that was Peter's response sent chills through the tiny Brit, from the top of his head to tip of his toenails.

“I want to tap into your … _potential_.”

“Erm .. _what_?” he asked, confusion etched into his features.

“Ha ha, sorry, one of Michael's euphemisms. I wanna fuck you.”

“You're bloody _CRAZY_! You'll split me in **TWO**!”

“Alright, lay back down so I can get back to what I was doing to y-”

“NO THATS OKAY!” Davy cut in, “Do yer want me on my knees or my back?” he said lamely.

“On your knees – and Davy – I'll be as gentle as I can. I just .. I _really_ need this – _**want this**_ \- from you. If you really don't want to ...”

“It's all good Petah .. I trust you. I've just nevah 'ad anything .. anyone – so big before. Lots of lube okay mate?”

“Of course babe .. do you want to wait just a bit? Recoup, or freshen up or anything?”

“No luv, it's now or nevah, fore I lose my grit yeah?”

Reaching into the nightstand drawer Peter retrieved a fairly large tube of lubricant, one that was designed to stimulate himself and relieve his partner of as much discomfort as possible. Sitting against the headboard, his knees drawn to his chest in an almost protective little ball, Davy watched with a mixture of awe and stark terror as the bassist slathered a generous amount of the clear gel up and down his enormous erection. Each stroke seemingly bringing more length and girth to the already colossal protuberance that was Peter's massive cock. Eyes wide with fear the diminutive one swallowed hard, yet determined to see it through he met his lover's eager eyes with a steady stare and a nod, indicating he was ready.

On wobbly limbs he turned, his back to Peter, Davy sat on his knees. Embracing him from behind the blond planted hot breathy kisses on his neck and shoulders, his hands roaming freely up and down the golden torso, absorbing the feel of every inch of trembling flesh. Guiding him with a gentle push of his own body arching forward he urged Davy onto his belly, his hands and knees tucked neatly underneath him. With a slip of a slick and practiced hand Peter placed a lubed finger into the tiny puckered opening, preparing the younger man for their coming together. Davy's breathing was choppy and ragged, his tension evident, Peter whispered to him soothingly.

"Try to relax Davy and don't be afraid, I'm gonna go slow. I want you so much, but if you tell me to stop, I will with no hard feelings."

   His hand on his pulsing, needy member, Peter pressed against the entryway to his own private nirvana, and with as much grace as he could muster, pushed slowly inside. A soft groan squeaked out of its own volition as the steamy stricture closed around his throbbing missile, the intensity of it entangling Peter in a barrage of sensual pleasure. Beneath him moaning low into the pillow Davy gripped the sheets, calm and stoic to the casual observer, inside his head he was screaming.

       (Bloody _**FUCK IT HURTS**_ oh GOD it _has to_ _ **STOP**_!)

   “You okay babe?” Peter cooed, eyes half-lidded, his voice barely a whisper.

   “Mmmhmm,” Davy managed, a slick sweat forming rapidly on his skin as he struggled to maintain a semblance of calm.

   Straining against his own skin Davy fought to keep it together, the length and girth of the massive phallus advancing between his tiny ass cheeks becoming unbearable with every impending inch. Finally, certain he would be ripped apart he opened his mouth to beg for an immediate cease and desist - and abruptly veered into another direction: A heavy and erotic groan gurgled up out of his throat as Peter's cock slid across the magic button that all men possess. Fireworks exploded in his groin as a carnal heat spread through him and straight into his brain. Suddenly all thoughts of pain evaporated. Flexing his back he arched into his lover's body, pressing himself into Peter's abdomen to gain more contact with the now much-appreciated shaft massaging him into a heated frenzy. The two men erupted into a sensual symphony as a litany of impassioned cries erupted into the air, their bodies seemingly singing as they melded into one flesh fixated on the same objective. All inhibitions stripped away Peter glanced down, feeding his salacious hunger he watched, mesmerized, as his throbbing cock slipped in and out of Davy's perfect ass. The sight of it driving him to a furious pace he pummeled into the tight, sucking chasm, his right hand snaking around to grasp Davy's cock - which was once more fully hard. Pumping into him in sync with the strokes he lavished upon his lover's shaft pushed the diminutive Brit past the brink, and with a strangled cry he jetted his stream into Peter's flailing and thirsty hand.

   “Oh Petah - unghaa - so _bloody_ good!”

   The warm sticky fluids and Davy's moans of ecstasy combined in his mind, quickening Peter's impending climax, as Davy's body tightened in spasms around his pulsing tingling monolith. With a raucous shout of his own, Peter could stave off the orgasm no more. Driving himself deep within the heavenly depths with all the force his hips could manage he spurted an endless flow of hot cum, crying out his lovers name.

   “Oh God _DAVY_ _**-YES**_!”

   “Petah, Petah!”

   Still atremble the two collapsed in a sweaty, satiated heap, still attached and gasping for breath they lay in silence: no words were needed, all was indeed right in their world.

       They slept.

   It was late when they woke, darkness had come and they were famished. Moving lazily they showered together innocently, then headed to the kitchen in search of a light supper.

   “There's some good cheese and French bread Petah, some salami and pasta salad - whatta ya say to a picnic on the sand?”

   “That sounds excellent Davy, I think Tony left a bottle of wine over here too ...”

   “ _Per_ fect!”

   They sat on the beach for hours, nibbling their picnic feast and sipping a fine Bordeau Lait, chatting now and then and gazing at the cloudless starry night sky. Leaning his back against Peter's chest Davy cuddled up to him, content and relaxed. Nuzzling into his soft brown hair, Peter had to finally ask.

   “Are you okay? Did I _hurt_ you David?”

   “To be honest babe – at first I wanted to _scream_ for you to stop – but then … then it was pure Heaven. I wouldn't have reined you in either way mate.”

   “Why not – I mean if I was hurting you-”

   “Because _**I**_ wanted it too!”

   “You did? _Really_?”

   “Yes Petah, you've nevah .. made love to me .. until today. Yer sweet and funny and sexy as hell – been 'oping for a chance li'e this and Micky's consent .. Mike's too.”

   “Michael can be very possessive, but with just the four of us he is fairly open about things. I wasn't sure what Mick would think of this, but I figured you would _**NEVER**_ want me.”

   “Why?”

   “You're just about the hottest guy I've ever met! So cute and charming – and that body – you could have whoever you want!”

   “Well I do 'ave some _TASTE_ ya know,” he grinned, “and 'aving who I _want_ means _**you**_ babe.”

   The wide grin that his words produced on Peter's face intensified his the adorable cleft in his cheek, giving Davy cause to giggle out loud.

   “If yer dimple gets any biggah mate I'm likely to fall _in_ to it,” he beamed.

   Blushing a deep crimson Peter ducked his head, both his natural shyness and a deep satisfaction welling up inside him. Sighing, he drew Davy in closer: It had been the best of days.

   Wednesday morning dawned bright and warm to find the twosome curled around one another like two cherubic boys - angels out of a Botticelli masterpiece - clinging to each other like giant stuffed bears. Having slept late into the morning, they were caught unawares by Micky and Mike - back a day early - standing over them gazing down with giddy amused expressions. Desperately trying not to snicker aloud in an effort not to wake the pair, they wondered in whispers between them.

   “You suppose they done finished their .. business?”

   “I can't see them all tangled up like this otherwise,” Micky grinned.

   “Never have a dadburn camera when I really need one,” Mike smiled.

“What say we wake em up?” Micky grinned lasciviously

“.. Okay, but let's do it _right_ -”

“Groovy. I'll lock the front, you find the lube.”

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> With Thanks and Dedicated to SeaEcho <3


End file.
